The Poetry and Prose of John Omniadeo

The Poetry and Prose of John Omniadeo

Monday, July 18, 2011

Look

Look. I see you. Look.
From the pages of your book,
from your plate, the food you cook,
I see you. Look.

You are beautiful and fine.
Your reflection in your wine
gazes at what is not mine
or yours. You dine

and you are dined upon.
You never came, are never gone,
will never set and had no dawn.
Listen to John.

This moment is the care you took.
I see you. Look.


Love to the Good Looking,

- John O.

Saturday, July 16, 2011

8 of Swords

inside the blades and bars of thought and feeling
a prisoner, blind and bound but reeling
anger, fright, choking, needs
she bleeds

i am but a worthless falling Fool afar
in space alone can i break blades and bars
catch the blood and offer back love's cup
look up!


love to all

- john o.

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Love Shack Sadhana

till all are free i take refuge in the awakened
and in the teachings that awaken
and the assembly of the awakening
my body my speech and my heart mind
i offer to you
please look on me with eyes of compassion
and please grant your grace
that i might live and die for the benefit of others

yadayadayada


[  ]


experience is just goes too far
experience beyond contain
experience the whole damn biz
experience beyond disdain

may all beings know fortune and the source of fortune
may we all know satisfaction and the source of satisfaction
never without the sacred joy beyond dissatisfaction
great peace 
no attachment no aversion no indifference
to any thing or body

by the spiritual power inherent in my practice
may all become awake and free
may we cross the great ocean of suffering
the stormy waves of birth love old age illness and death

I bow to all meditators


- john o.

Thursday, July 7, 2011

Love and Conflict

call it a plurality
call it nonduality
call it wretched
call it fun
it's never nothing
never one

go philosophize your life
what is real and why is strife
then go tell it to your honey
when you've gambled all the money
or have seen or been a whore
philosophy goes out the door
and while the fool philosophizes
love happens
and
conflict arises

love and conflict to all,

- john o

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Union Parade

Marching
We are marching
We are marching on this Brand New Day
Marching
HEY!
Come join the Union!
March in the Union Parade

Uncle John came and
He got the Children dancing
Then he lifted up his Hands
Time for the Children
To link Arms together
March with the Union Band

I was a Slave
I was livin on my Knees
Master commanded—I obeyed
Now I'm a Free Man
Born to the Union
I march in the Union Parade

Marching
We are marching
We are marching on the Stones We Laid
Marching
HEY!
Come join the Union!
March in the Union Parade

I was a Handmaid
of a Cruel Mistress
Master had me on a whim
Now I'm a Free Woman
Born to the Union
No Mistress or Master again

You don't need no Uniform
You don't need no Union Card
Your Dues have already been paid
When you know you hurt
Like every other Beatin Heart
You march in that Union Parade

Marching
We are marching
We are marching on this Brand New Day
Marching
HEY!
Come join the Union!
March in the Union Parade

Love to All,

- John O.

Dry Underpass

this bridge is quiet
there ain't a truck for miles
and a cold rain
is startin to fall
guess i'll duck in here
stay dry for awhile
stop and think
about it all

and then i feel it
pressin on my ribs
the way an iron
press a curl
i am alone
i am alone
i am alone in this world

couple broken two-by-fours
maybe make me a fire
can't see no harm
in gettin warm
lean my back against
this throwed away tire
sit me out
another storm

you know i feel it
bustin through my ribs
the way a hammer
smash a pearl
i am alone
i am alone
i am alone in this world

buncha busted bottles
and i don't even care
the way they ruin
that soft grass
might bust one myself
cuz i can hardly bear
the quiet
of a dry underpass

because it hit me
right between my ribs
the way a bullet
waste a squirrel
i am alone
i am alone
i am alone in this world


Love  to All,

- John O.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

The Way

a bird in the hand ain’t worth shit when you die
open that hand and let that bird fly
he might build a nest on your window sill
he might bring you gold in his little black bill

there was space in my bottle and space all around
you broke my bottle and i heard that space sound
sweepin up the pieces was just like a dream
i even heard love in that blood-curdling scream

well i’m goin back to my no longer home
where the park’s got the buffalo and the derelicts roam
i ain’t got nothin but i’m richer than croesus
crazier than trungpa—kinder than jesus

and i’m comin back here with monopoly money
to leave in your temple cuz i love you honey
old poets don’t die—they just have their say
and fade in your arms and that’s just the way

Love to  All,

-  John O.